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[untitled]

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00:30:00

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SCANNED IN
San Francisco, CA, USA

SOURCE
Comcast Cable

TUNER
Channel 89 (615 MHz)

VIDEO CODEC
mpeg2video

AUDIO CODEC
ac3

PIXEL WIDTH
544

PIXEL HEIGHT
480

TOPIC FREQUENCY

Berkeley 4, Debbie Yee 3, Mabel 3, Harold 3, Us 2, Maureen 2, Traited 1, Jasper John 1, Ina Ontholingly 1, Uc 1, Unrequited 1, Calla Lillies 1, Steed 1, Hamer 1, California 1, Nevada 1, San Francisco 1, Baron Sea 1, Northern California 1, Sacramento 1,
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  SFGTV2    [untitled]  

    October 12, 2012
    5:30 - 6:00am PDT  

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(applause).
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>> in conjunction with an an exhi bigz we had ann an exhi bigz we had ann anan tholl have the same title. it's my pleasure to introduce some of the writers from this book. i will give you an introduction of each of them as i introduce them for their speaking turn. first up we have debbie yee. debbie yee is an attorney and poet and supporter and organizer
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of the nonprofit asian american arts community. she's received her undergraduate and law degrees from uc berkeley and bolt. born and raised in sacramento, california. she continues to call northern california her home. and now lives in san francisco. so, with that i'd like to introduce debbie yee as our first speaker. >> this is called jasper john's wagon. >> i have an idea of how the fifth star was killed dear empire not by gunfire at close range, not in the study with the pen knife, not by the umbrella, crushed by the revolving door not jostled or hemorrhaged the narrow drain. we caught the tar and the bullet we came to the body encostic casement of skin rig motor us framed the opened mouths scream.
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wail for your mother wrap our sons in silken ribbons in a galaxy. the cause has been perp traited. we are adrift on a baron sea. the fleet diminishes me. who shouts for us now, dear empire? this next one is a postcard for a reason that i kept of harold's club in reno, nevada. i don't know if it exists it's a really old postcard. harold's club made we think of harold and the purple crayon. harold's club. who would figure let loose the boy with the purple crayon. let him conkokt the loses slots in women. let loose his imagination.
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ended as high as sea gulls or the reverse w's topped with bold topped centers the rudeaments of the buzzum and life itself. >> pen and ink. in the way we demonstrate speech by quotation marks the ill administrator kapt urs speed by 2 lines of the pen much the trotting horse quoted at the knees all 4 and the lady side saddled atop him frozen in place by crossed hatched marks. courseut to indicate the petticoat aroused into activity by the muscular steed. unintended garden. whether o(inaudible) the propery
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line, i promise not to water the spring flower and plants that remain as brown stubbel on the chins of my train. take care of dry foilage. i let the japanese maybel swat the afi ds on it's own. purple spotted brush. 2 calla lillies take root. birds return listening to lost meats all day until dusk beckons them to come to the nest and try again in the morning. this next poem is indian an ina ontholingly. on telegraph avenue it's no longer in existence, the sadness of this. berkeley, late fall. um -- this is from forest hamer
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who is a bay area poet who wrote berkeley late spring. this is berkeley late fall. i have been browsing the peet ree section had come to lose the unconcern but persistant rain that followed me in as a trail of damp shoe prints and dripping conscientious hacompanied to a solitude. i ran my right index if anything are across each spine flesh going along volume and groove. imagine the book seller anding by to fold and flatten we down to on an oblong shape and reshelf me into an americay sandwich between the t's and v's stacked up along the unexpected and unknown. i notice that the pe ems i imagine crowding around you were the unquieted the unrequited.
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distant citizens far from the disposition of the safety of s's the determinant d's and resultant r's where the poems are make believe. unlike the bumpy organic one i find myself wandering into. this one is about the moon. mabel and maureen. the moon regrets it's father's avd vise, take the night shift. [laughter]. each evening he dressed his forehead in linseed oil and drying powerhouse the expansion of reflection. it's difficult to get shut eye the hours before how the sunshines and how dollar is no curtain wide enough to screen it's rays. he takes out his bag lunching mouthfuls of apple juice and pb
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and j. on his watchdog garts. diners are darkened, empty much we are not open for you, moon they seem to say. and so said the cart vendors the waitresses like mabel and maureen. how mabel and lauereen stroll indeed full skirted prichled merrily the moon lit evening arms in other men's arms. this next one is, the next 2, which are my last 2 are something about passing. among us. in the sunken spring as in winter and fall and every season that our teak of spring with souro and jubulation are fragile hearts are as children grabbing drink tumblers spilld and milky. teach finger